


Rhapsody in Sand and Stone

by Coffee_Flavored_Kisses



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr request, vague references to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 23:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffee_Flavored_Kisses/pseuds/Coffee_Flavored_Kisses
Summary: Patrick finds an old piano, and decides it would be the perfect addition to the store. David has a hard time agreeing with this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an anonymous prompt on tumblr.

“A piano?”

“A piano.”

David squinted as he looked it over. It was an upright, the wood faded from decades in a southern-facing window, some of the white keys yellowing and some of the black keys chipping.

“And we really need this?”

Patrick smiled at his boyfriend and tossed an arm playfully around his shoulders. “Let me explain something,” he said, his free hand gesturing from left to right across the keys. “I had one exactly like this growing up. It’s where I learned to play. In fact, it’s where I fell in love with music.”

David grimaced, then took one daring step forward, reaching the finger of one hand across the empty space and pushing down on one of the keys.

“It’s not supposed to sound like that, is it?” he asked as the hollow note drifted in and out of existence.

“Well. No. It’s not.” Patrick pulled away from David and moved his body against it. Both of his hands momentarily hovered above the keys before finally finding a place upon them. In one motion, he pressed them down, and what should have been a delightful beginner’s chord came out like one of Roland’s throaty coughs after his third strawberry-mint milkshake.

“Yikes,” Patrick said quietly to himself.

“So where are we supposed to put this thing, anyway?” David asked. And it was a good question. The stock in the store hadn’t exactly been moving at a rate that indicated they’d suddenly have room available for a 900-pound upright piano.

“Maybe near the back,” Patrick said absently. “By the chilled wines.”

“And if it’s not going to be out here for your open mic friends to abuse, then what exactly is the point of it?”

Patrick was starting to wonder this himself. “I don’t know, David. I had one, I always wanted one, and this one was free. Let’s just try to enjoy the fact that Ronnie’s talking to me on good enough terms to have let me know it was available before she threw it out.”

“So this is garbage,” David clarified. “She was going to throw this in the trash, where it clearly belongs, and you decided it was exactly what was missing from the store.”

Patrick turned and glared at David, whose expression was not giving one bit.

“I like it,” Patrick said simply. “If I can’t make it right in a couple weeks, I’ll haul it out the back and put it in the trash. Okay?”

David folded his arms and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Two weeks.”

He almost missed the way Patrick smiled at the idea of fixing things up. After all, Patrick enjoyed a good project, reaping the eventual benefits of hard work. Nothing compares to it, he knew, so as daunting as it would be to attempt an antique piano restoration in two weeks on top of all the other daily tasks he had to take care of anyway, he figured it would give him something to look forward to, and something he could eventually convince David to care about, too.

But David noticed that smile. He thought his boyfriend was foolish to attempt it, but he loved to see when Patrick was passionate about something. Something other than him, anyway. Not that he didn’t love Patrick’s passion concerning him, but… it was nice to have something else to occupy him on occasion.

David stayed the night at Patrick’s that night, but when he woke at half-past six in the morning to a tender kiss on his cheek, he was almost insulted at the audacity of the man who knew him best daring to wake him well before his time.

“I’m going in early,” Patrick whispered. “I just wanted to let you know.”

“But…” David wiped his eyes. “Breakfast?”

“You know where the café is,” Patrick winked. And then, moving to grab his jacket from the dining table, he left as he said, leaving David confused and tired but now undeniably awake.

It wasn’t unusual for Patrick to leave early, even when David was staying over. But there was something in the fact that he alerted David to it that left him a bit perturbed. Still, he had to accept the fact that he was now awake, and he wrapped himself in Patrick’s robe as he headed to the refrigerator for a cup of orange juice.

He didn’t notice the open photo albums until he had settled into the couch. He’d seen pictures of Patrick as a child, but never these specific ones. Unmistakably, it was him, whether it was the red-headed boy with the kerchief around his neck on a hobby horse playing cowboy, or holding a balloon at what looked like the world’s most pathetic church carnival, or whether it was him in frills and an eyepatch performing in a grade-school production of Peter Pan. He made an adorable Captain Hook.

Noticeably absent were other photographs. He wondered what they might have been, but not enough to fret over it. Maybe the empty spaces in the album had been occupied by photos he gave his parents during their visit. Maybe he took them out to have them framed or copied. Either way, it was none of his concern. He texted his mom and asked her to meet him at the café for breakfast, then went through his usual morning routine of shower, moisturize, and style.

Despite his biding his time, David still arrived at work early. Ten minutes before opening, actually, which caused Patrick to audibly gasp when he watched him walk through the door.

“Dramatic much?” David asked with a smile, setting his bag by the counter and handing a tea to Patrick.

“I’ve just never seen you in here so early, and looking so ready to take on the day, too!” He accepted the drink, then leaned over to kiss David hello. “Hope you were able to sleep well.”

“After last night, how could I not?” David teased, biting his lip. “Maybe my legs are still a little wobbly, but I think that’ll take--”

“Uh, David!” Patrick announced a bit too loudly as an elderly gentleman entered from the back room. “This is Fred. He’s just been repairing the keys on the piano we just got.”

David’s eyes widened, but it was clear he’d been overheard. “Fred,” he attempted to say, though it came out through more of a whisper. “Lovely to meet you.”

Fred nodded his direction, then turned back toward Patrick. “She’s an old lady, but a strong one,” he told him. “Don’t touch her ‘til the putty’s dry. Eight hours or so should do it. Then slap a coat of paint on her and go to town for all I care.”

“Thanks, Fred.” Patrick shook his hand and began walking toward the front door. “And just remember to send the bill to the personal address I gave you, not the business.”

“Will do,” he agreed, and after one more nod toward David, he was gone.

“Sorry,” Patrick grinned. “I probably should’ve warned you there was someone here.”

“For the piano,” David said, as if finishing the thought for himself. “That’s why you came in so early?”

“Well, that,” he started, moving behind the till and opening the drawer. “And I needed to get a jumpstart on some of the other stuff here. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t waste too much time on my personal projects at the cost of the actual store work that needs to be done.”

David suppressed an amused smile, choosing instead to watch the way Patrick’s lips moved as he silently counted up the money in the cash register, marking every denomination in a ledger, his body upright and strong and his mind focused. It was in these less obvious moments that David remembered how much he loved that man. Right then, for instance, he could see the next twenty years in a flash, both of them getting pudgy in the middle, counting up the cash and straightening the bottles and waiting for the clock to strike nine so they could turn the store sign around to OPEN.

Patrick closed the drawer, and David approached him, his arms snaking around Patrick’s waist.

“Can I kiss you, or do you have any other octogenarians lurking in the back?”

Patrick smiled. “You can kiss me,” he said, then doing so. “But we’re open now, so let’s try to be professional, yeah?”

David pulled his hands away. “Right. Professional.”

Patrick walked past his boyfriend, but quickly smacked one palm hard against David’s backside as he did so. He then turned the sign around, unlocked the door, and returned to his inventory checklist.

\-----------------

At closing, David was just unboxing a new shipment of organic orange household cleaner while Patrick placed the day’s profits in a pouch for the bank deposit the following morning. The store had gone quiet, the last track on the player had ended, and the sky was growing slowly darker.

“I saw it back there,” David said, bringing up the subject for the first time since open. “How did you have someone back there to fix it, and yet somehow it looks even worse than when it came in here?”

“I knew you weren’t going to like it,” Patrick said with a shake of his head. “That’s why I didn’t bring it up.”

“And you’re not billing the store?”

“No, of course not,” Patrick shrugged. “I told you it’s a personal project.”

“A personal project that’s in the store,” he countered.

“It happens to be in the store physically, sure. But it’s not for the store.”

David stared at Patrick, a bit confused. “I thought you said it would be good for open mic night?”

“I know I said that,” he started, folding his arms a bit defensively. “But the more I played around with her, the more attached I got.”

“Are we talking about the piano, or your high school girlfriend?”

Patrick let out a little laugh, able to do so now after all this time. “I have my reasons,” he said. “Trust me.”

David went silent for a moment, folding the box back down for the trash. “Fine,” he said at last. “But your reasons are currently blocking an entire shelf of our seasonal wreaths that we’re supposed to start displaying next week, so…”

“It’s not staying there,” Patrick said. He started to relax now, moving away from the counter and walking toward the back. “It was just there because Fred can’t do stairs.”

“Stairs?” David exclaimed, as if Patrick had just said that “Fred can’t do murder” or “Fred can’t do fried foods” or, worse yet, “Fred can’t do Meryl Streep movies.”

“That’s right,” Patrick nodded, now with David following him until they reached the piano itself. “It’s going up there.”

He pointed at the stairwell to the rarely-used second story of Rose Apothecary. In fact, David had only ever been up there twice. Once when he was considering leasing the store in the first place (he had considered living there if the space was big enough, only to be disappointed in the fact that it was little more than a loft), and again when he was tracking down a June bug that had been flying rogue throughout the store (he had to show Stevie where it had gone so she could trap it and get rid of it).

“Okay. Um. Couple questions about that,” David said, still staring up the pathway to hell. “First of all, how? And second of all, where?”

“How am I going to get it up there?” Patrick asked. “Well, when we had the building inspector and the fire chief come in for the initial licensing, they said the stairs can withstand a weight of more than a ton, so I’m thinking the weight won’t be an issue. I just need to get a couple guys and a pulley.

“From…?”

“Not sure yet, but people are always happy to do light work for a few bucks, so I’m not worried.

“Okay, good,” David said in a sigh of relief. “Because for a minute, I thought you were going to ask me.”

Patrick let out a too-loud, open-mouthed laugh. “No way!” he said, shaking his head. “No, I know I woulda lost that battle before I even started.”

David nodded in agreement.

“And as for where up there I’m going to put it, well…” Patrick began ascending the steps, assuming David would follow. Which he did, after a moment’s hesitation. “If we move the seasonal stock to the break room instead of the upper room – which would make more sense anyway, since it would cut down the labor it takes to move everything around two floors at the holidays, we can actually fit quite a bit up here. You know, stuff we’d never have to worry about moving back out, so it’s not as big a deal.”

“And if you’re moving things out of the break room, where are we going to--”

“We don’t need the couch anymore, David. We have a place of our own now.”

David smiled to himself. Not only was Patrick finally admitting (more or less) that he’d bought that couch for the express purpose of giving them a comfortable place to fool around after hours before they had any other option, but he was also calling his apartment theirs. Which, sure, needed to be formally addressed at some point. But not now. Now, he chose to enjoy this feeling.

“So maybe other than the piano, I don’t know. A couple chairs. A table. We can have clients over to discuss business up there as long as the logistics work for them.”

Patrick had probably given this more thought than David had given to the entire store when he decided to start the business. It should have perhaps scared David a bit, but it didn’t. He liked a man who took charge. A man who would make the decisions now and then.

“Are we still thinking it can be done in two weeks?” David asked cautiously.

“Two weeks? No problem!” And there was something forced in his voice, but David ignored it.

David glanced around at the room. It wouldn’t be easy. The loft was stacked floor-to-ceiling with Mrs. Klein’s menorahs, Mr. Bonder’s Christmas cards, Alice Waxmann’s turkey platters. It was stock enough for the next three years, probably, but still worth holding onto. Handmade, beautiful, meaningful.

And heavy. All of it was very, very heavy.

“Let’s get dinner,” David suggested. “And then we can get back home, and you can spend the evening treating my legs nicely to make up for last night.”

Patrick grinned, holding David’s hand as they went down the stairs. “No promises,” he winked.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, David was almost disappointed when he woke just before eight to find that Patrick had gone off to work early, neglecting to tell him this time.

_Almost_ disappointed.

He went through his routine and headed down to the café for breakfast. He also ordered a breakfast sandwich and tea for Patrick, bringing it in with him as he waltzed through the shop doors fifteen minutes after open.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, setting the bag and cup on the counter.

Patrick smiled. “Since seven,” he answered. “Is this for me?”

“Of course it’s for you. And is there anyone working back there today that I should be aware of?”

“Not yet,” he answered, taking a long, satisfying sip.

“Not yet?” David walked to the back and peeked in the room. Some boxes had been moved around, clearly, but the piano looked the same. “Who’s coming? When? What’s the plan?”

“There’s a former music teacher from the high school who tunes pianos now. Jocelyn put me in touch. He’s gonna come check out the strings, you know. Make sure everything’s in order. Thanks, by the way.”

“You’re welcome. And what time?”

“Between noon and one.”

“So… during lunch?”

“It’s fine,” Patrick answered, his mouth full of food. “I’ll stay here. You go have lunch over there with your sister or something.”

David wasn’t completely sure he liked the idea of someone foreign to the shop rooting around the storage room, getting in the way, puttering around where there was clearly work to be done. The disorganization back there made David physically itch, and his body twitched nervously a bit as he tried to rid himself of the thought and returned to the main storefront to tend to a customer who’d just walked in.

\-------------

David didn’t love leaving the store for so long. Well, normally he wouldn’t mind, but it was something about the lack of control he had just then, the way he watched from the window seat as yet another elderly man brought a strange bag into the store and spent far too long inside. Alexis had come along, but with half the time spent with her face in her phone and the other half spent telling David the piano “just isn’t a big deal, okay? Let it go!” David was feeling less assured by the minute.

“I just feel like this whole thing is going to be very expensive, and the stock that I have meticulously organized is going to go to hell,” he complained to Twyla now.

“It seems like this is really important to him,” she reasoned. “And you did give him two weeks. Maybe you should just see how it goes? It’s only been… what? Two days?”

Now he felt like everyone was ganging up on him. With determination and a tuna melt for Patrick, he marched back across the street to see Patrick sitting comfortably on the counter while Mitch Glack, the piano tuner, leaned against the fragrance table sipping on a bottle of juice from their cooler. When David walked in, both men looked at him, which tended to happen in any room David walked into, and he stood just in the threshold with his hands on his hips, scanning the room quickly to see if things had changed at all. So far, though, nothing visible had occurred.

“This must be the young man you’ve been gushing about,” the elderly gentleman smiled, extending a hand toward David. “Mr. Glack is what the kids call me,” he said. “Nice to finally meet you, David.”

Patrick smiled impishly, watching David melt at the greeting which varied so greatly from the one he’d had the previous day.

David shook his hand. “Mr. Glack,” he acknowledged. “Patrick says you’ve been tuning the piano we’ve got back there. Any luck?”

“Oh, that one was a tough one,” he answered. “But your partner here also knows a thing or two about music. Got ears like tuning forks. He was able to give me a little help, and to be honest, I did try and steal him from you to come work for me.”

Patrick shook his head and David smiled. “I told him he’d have to fight you for me,” Patrick said.

David forced amusement at the situation. “And how’s the stock, Patrick? Speaking of fighting and… you know… potential fights.”

“Mr. Glack here actually has a nephew who’s got a moving company. He says he can loan out the pulley for the stairs for twenty bucks as long as I supply the people to do the work.”

“I was speaking more about the stock in the back,” David clarified, now walking slowly that direction. “I’m just gonna take a quick peek in there and make sure that everything’s still in order.”

He disappeared to the back, and Patrick kindly walked Mr. Glack to his vehicle before joining David. “See?” he said, pointing to the boxes, which were still in the same place they’d been that morning.” David was still crouching by the boxes, reading labels, not fully sure he trusted Patrick’s system of keeping things in order as he moved them.

“Maybe I should be here when you’re moving things from now on,” David suggested. He tried taking on a calmer tone, but it was still coming across with all the urgency and panic that Patrick sort of suspected existed anyway.

“I promised you that you wouldn’t have to lift a finger doing any of the work for the piano,” Patrick reminded him. “So no, you shouldn’t be here. Sleep in, relax, spend time with your family or whatever. I’ll take care of this and, yes, I’ll keep everything in order.”

David glanced up toward the loft.

“I’ll take care of that, too,” Patrick promised, gripping David by the shoulders. “Can you please just trust me?”

David’s eyes wide, his body shaking a bit, his mind in a million different places, he looked Patrick in the eyes. Slowly, the calm of his boyfriend’s gaze took over him, and he was able to breathe in deeply, knowing that he could, in fact, trust Patrick.

“Fine,” he gave in. “But if you do happen to mess something up, you let me know right away instead of trying to fix it in your own…” he paused, trying to rephrase the words in his head. “In your own special way,” he finished.

Patrick looked around the corner to be sure they were alone still, and he leaned close to David and kissed him, his arms wrapped around David’s body as he did. The kiss was not their usual workplace greeting kiss, nor was it anywhere near as chaste as the kisses of their early days had been. He backed David up against the wall and pressed their bodies together, breaking them apart only when the bell rang with the song of a customer coming through the front door.

“You can trust me,” he reminded David quietly. “And you can let me do this.”

From this position, it was impossible for David to deny this fact. He nodded, reaching for another kiss just before Patrick walked away to help the woman who’d just come in looking for cinnamon sticks.

\---------------

“And what about the wood?” David asked, now a full week after this project had begun. Nothing more had been done to the piano since Mr. Glack’s tuning job, which David insisted still didn’t seem to have been done correctly, at which time Patrick informed him that two strings needed to be replaced. They had been ordered, and Mr. Glack would install them and finish the job as soon as they arrived. Until then, he had said, it was best to get the piano moved into its place first so that nothing got “jostled loose” after the tuning had been completed.

“Once it’s moved, I’ll decide on a stain. Then I’ll sand it down and get the color on. It’ll look completely different then, I promise.”

“Sounds like a lot more work than it’s worth,” David said. “Why don’t you just throw on a coat of paint and call it a day?”

Patrick looked almost offended at this suggested. “David,” he said, running his hand along the top of the instrument. “You don’t just ‘slap a coat of paint’ on one hundred and three-year-old oak.”

“This thing is a hundred and three?” David asked, circling around the piano and surveying the wood. “It looks like a cheap eighties reproduction.”

“That’ll change when the color gets restored. The only problem,” Patrick pointed to a very specific area in the wood grain, about an inch thick, that ran down the left leg. “They re-stained it at some point, and they did a crap job. Didn’t get down to the base, didn’t bother trying to match the wood, went against the grain, didn’t top-seal. Just a complete crap job.”

David smiled at Patrick’s knowledge. “What are you, some kind of wood expert?”

Patrick glanced back over his shoulder and gave David a proud look. David shooed it away.

“So if you need it up the stairs before you do anymore work, when is it getting moved up there?”

“As soon as I can find a few people to help,” Patrick answered. “Maybe… I don’t know. Maybe four or five?”

“Ted will help,” David suggested. “And Stevie, if we ask nicely.”

The pregnant pause which occurred just then worried Patrick. He didn’t want David to feel like he expected him to help out, but he also wished he’d volunteer. Still, he had promised David he wouldn’t have to do a thing, so he moved on.

“Maybe the three of us could get it. I mean, we’ll have the pulley, so that should do a lot of the work, right?”

David shrugged. “Fingers crossed, I guess.”

“And in the meantime,” Patrick continued, “We’ve got most of the seasonal stuff down here. At this point, we just need to clean up the odds and ends, then clear out the break room to make a place for the boxes.”

And sure, the back of the store was a mess to the point where David had forbidden himself from looking directly at it all. Patrick had taken charge of all stocking and restocking, and so far, nothing had gone too terribly wrong. There was a slight incident with the hand-painted breakfast saucers, but that had more to do with the client’s shaky hand and less to do with anything Patrick had done. And besides, only two customers actually ended up complaining that the saucers appeared to say “ _Moaning Person_.”

“So we need to be saying goodbye to the couch soon, huh?” David asked, now peering through the curtain to the room they’d set up as a lounge area.

“Yeah,” Patrick sighed. “We had some good memories here, but we haven’t even used it in the past few months. Except for that one time when _someone_ was supposed to be fetching a new tablecloth and then ended up taking a forty-minute nap.”

“My mother had kept me up until almost three telling me about that grey hair she discovered in her hairbrush!”

Patrick flipped off the back room lights and moved to turn the sign to CLOSED. “Still,” he went on. “If we’re not using it, why keep it? And it was dirt cheap, too, so it’s not like it was a waste of money. I’d say we got plenty of use out of it.”

The way Patrick bit his lip when he said this, the way his eyes moved up and down David’s body, the fact that they hadn’t really had any quality time together for almost three full days had them rushing to the break room. The couch had belonged to Ray in a previous life, being used for two stylized photoshoots before he realized it was too overstuffed and comfortable to serve the purpose well. He’d then sold it to Patrick when he’d moved in, and Patrick moved it to the store since he and David needed something more comfortable to spend time on when they got the rare, late-evening opportunity. Still, it was too big and impractical for the room, especially since they could be using so much valuable space for the stock that needed to be placed here to make room for Patrick’s passion project.

“Let’s give it a proper goodbye,” Patrick insisted, though with half his clothes already off, it was probably the last thing he needed to say out loud.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m going in now,” Patrick said, his lips kissing just below David’s ear as he spoke.

David woke, looking up at Patrick and wondering what time it was. “Okay,” he managed to say. “But it’s Sunday. We’re not even open today.”

“I’m moving the piano upstairs,” he said. “So I’ll need to be down there soon to let everyone in.”

David blinked up at him. “You actually finished cleaning up there?”

Patrick smiled. “You underestimated me,” he said. “But I’ve got four more days to finish, and I’m a man of my word.”

“What time will you be home?”

“I don’t know. Hopefully by lunch. It’s just right up the stairs and that’s it. I’m not planning on doing anything else today.”

“Yes you are, if I get any say in it at all.”

“Oh really?” Patrick smiled, pressing his lips to David’s. But then he pulled back quickly. “No, I have to go. For real. I’ll see you in a few hours, okay? Love you.”

David watched as Patrick walked out. Today, there was no urgency to leave home, no need to run around getting drinks and breakfast and doing inventory. Today was the one day of rest they actually had every week, and David wasn’t one to break routine.

But then it was eleven. Then noon. Then one o’clock, and still no word from Patrick. No showing up back home, no text to inform him, no voicemail. David tried keeping himself occupied by finishing flipping through the photo albums that Patrick had now moved to the top of his bookshelf. David removed a photo from his high school performance of _Hairspray_ , then from a carnival ride on his first date with Rachel (Patrick was wearing braces, and David simply could not deal with that fact quietly), and a photo of a shirtless, string bean-skinny Patrick fishing with his dad. By that age, the freckles had faded away, the hair had gone darker auburn, and the smile had straightened out. David imagined a life in which that skinny kid was his first boyfriend, his first kiss, the person who taught him years earlier that he deserved love, and he deserved it from someone who deserved it in return.

He even found himself tearing at the thought.

It was much too late now, though. The clock was approaching three, and the final photograph in the album – that of a college-era Patrick Brewer posing in a Toronto Blue Jays jersey and a baseball bat – was staring at David offering the very height of sentimentality. David snapped a photo of it with his phone, sent it to Patrick, and texted:

_I can’t believe I fell in love with this nerd._

There was no answer. Not right away, as usual. Not five minutes later (less usual, but not unheard of). Not an hour later, by which time David had given up on guessing what was going on and, hungry for food and company, he left the apartment and headed down to the store to see how it was possible Patrick was still working.

He could see Ted’s bike, Stevie’s car, and the pickup truck Patrick had borrowed from Roland to pick up the pulley from the movers. But when he opened the door to the shop and stepped inside, he couldn’t have expected the events he would come upon in the back room.

Patrick was seated on the bottom step, one foot propped up on Stevie’s lap while Ted looked it over. All three of them had a look of worry, none more than Stevie, whose eyes lit up as soon as David walked in.

“Guys,” she murmured, reaching each hand over and gripping each man by an arm.

David surveyed the three of them for a moment, but he had lost the ability to articulate any of the thoughts running through his brain at the moment. Patrick’s foot, which had been un-shoed and un-socked, looked fairly normal aside from the large, purple-red bump at the ankle.

“There was an incident,” Ted said at last.

“An incident?”

“He kinda… fell,” Stevie offered.

“It’s not a big deal,” Patrick interjected. “I just twisted it a little coming down the stairs. I guess I got caught up in the pulley ropes. I thought they were out of the way.”

“It’s more than a twist,” Ted asserted, finally allowing the foot to rest back on Stevie as he stood. “It’s hard to know for sure, but it’s at least a bad bone bruise. I told him he needs to go get it checked by someone who’s actually used to human injuries, but--”

“Yeah, he doesn’t do doctors.” David looked disapprovingly at Patrick, who was, somewhat pathetically, trying to put his shoe and sock back on as they were.

“But we got the thing up there,” Stevie pointed out. “So… my work is done, right? I can go now?”

All three men glared at her for a moment. Unfazed, she stood and grabbed her bag from beside her on the floor. “Hope it gets better, Patrick.”

As she left, Ted started to explain how many different kinds of injuries it might be, many of which would require a doctor’s guidance to fix. Patrick cringed as he tried to pull his shoe over the swollen flesh of his foot, and David sat down beside him as Ted began his graceful exit as well.

“I’d have taken him, but I’ve just got the hog. Which, you know, can seat two people, but if he had trouble holding on and fell off or something, well…” he chuckled to himself a little. “We’d be in _wheely_ big trouble then!”

Patrick and David looked at each other, both of them unamused, both experiencing their own kind of pain.

“Thanks for the help today, Ted,” Patrick managed to say, just a hint of strain in his voice. “Sorry I couldn’t keep our lunch plans, but I’ll make it up to you as soon as possible.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just do me a favor and get to a doctor, okay bud?”

Patrick nodded, and Ted left. David and Patrick sat alone and silent for a long time just like that at the base of the steps.

“I promised I’d have this done by the end of next week,” Patrick said finally, unable to look David in the eye. “I’ll just put some ice on this and stay off my feet today, and I’m sure by tomorrow--”

“No, no,” David insisted, his hand soothingly running up and down Patrick’s back. “You need to get that checked. I’ll drive.”

“But the place is a mess!” Patrick admitted. And it was true. Nothing that they’d had to move around had been put back, dirt and dust had fallen all over everything in the process of the move, and the stairs had been nicked in a couple of places. Still, David knew his priorities. And as much as he hated to admit it, so did Patrick.

“Fine,” he sighed. “But I really don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Your ankle looks like a fist,” David pointed out.

Patrick smiled briefly, then nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I really thought this would get done faster.”

“Just come on,” David told him, standing and reaching down to help pull him up. Gradually, they made it out to the car, and they spent the next several hours in the hospital.

In the end, it was a pretty minor hairline fracture in Patrick’s foot that was causing the pain and swelling. There would be no permanent or long-term damage as long as he kept his weight off of it and wore a boot and used crutches as often as possible. Recovery time would be no less than two weeks, no more than a month. Still, the doctor insisted he limit his time on stairs. Walking up to his apartment would just about max him out, he’d said.

They went back to their home for ice cream and planning. Patrick could easily come in to work each day and sit and do paperwork all day each day as long as David was alright with the heavy lifting. David agreed to be there whenever Patrick needed help getting up and down stairs or stepping into the shower or any of those other tedious little things no one thinks about until they become an issue. But even through all the organization they arranged and David’s assurances that he’d help however needed, Patrick still seemed distant and lost. And of course David noticed this.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, propping Patrick’s foot up on a pile of extra pillows.

“I need to get in there early to clean up tomorrow,” he said. “And if you’re coming to help me get around, that means you’ll need to get up early, too.”

David’s face froze. “How… how early?” he asked warily.

“It’s pretty bad,” he explained. “So, pretty early. Maybe around six or so.”

David shook his head, then circled around to the other side of the bed. “Fine. Do you need your meds?”

The pain was present, but it was bearable. “I think I’m alright.”

“Ice?”

“No, I think it’s fine like this.”

David smiled, then leaned in and kissed Patrick quickly. “I’m going back to the motel for some more clothes,” he said. “Get some sleep, and we can worry about the store in the morning, okay?”

Patrick smiled up at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You’re in pain, and I’m in nurse mode,” David answered simply. “I’m not even thinking about the store or the mess or the ugly, impractical half-ton piano in my loft right now.”

With a final kiss, he was gone. He had every intention of driving straight to the motel as he’d said he was going to do, but an annoying curiosity nagged at him until he found himself, somehow, in front of the store.

He wondered if he’d not noticed the extent of the mess earlier, or if it had somehow gotten even worse in their absence. An unsettling feeling stirred in his stomach as he paced throughout the store, taking note of everything that was out of place, everything that had gotten moved or dirtied or otherwise disturbed. The marks on the steps weren’t too bad, he supposed, and he especially wouldn’t worry about them since no one saw those anyway. But he had to get things in order if they were going to open the store again in just twelve hours.

He rolled up his sleeves, turned on the lights, and started moving things back in place. This was going to take a while.


	4. Chapter 4

Patrick woke with alarm as soon as he noticed the sun was already up, worried that he’d missed his shot at waking early enough to fix things before David saw. When he was able to open his eyes fully, he saw the he was alone in the place, and that the store was set to open in just about a half an hour.

He reached for his phone and dialed up David as quickly as possible while he eased out of bed. When David answered, his voice was groggy and distant as he spoke, “Hi, are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” Patrick answered. “Where are you? I just woke up!”

“Okay, I’ll run home and help you get ready,” David said.

“No, I’ll manage. Just get to the store and get it open, okay? I’ll start helping you move things back as soon--”

“Patrick, no, it’s fine. I took care of it.”

He went silent for minute, unsure if he’d heard correctly. “You – You actually went in early?”

“Not exactly, but it’s done. I promise.”

Patrick didn’t know what to say, but he smiled, wishing David could see how grateful he was.

“How’s the foot?” David asked.

“Hurts.”

“Take a pill. I’ll come get you soon. If we open a few minutes late, so be it.”

“Thank you,” Patrick said quietly. “I love you.”

“You too. See you soon.”

\--------------

Patrick couldn’t believe the way things looked. Not only had everything been cleared and organized again, but the floors shined, the new stock had been displayed, the sofa had been moved to the alley, and everything smelled like lavender.

“Sit,” David told him, pulling a chair behind the cash register. “This is your station today. If you need anything, you just tell me.”

For the first time that morning, Patrick dared to mention David’s appearance. “Are those the same clothes you wore yesterday?”

“They are.”

“And did you sleep at all last night?”

“Of course.”

“How much?”

David hesitated. “I was able to catch a little nap in between floor treatments,” he said casually. “On lunch I’ll get home and shower and change and do all that stuff I didn’t have time to do last night.”

“So… you were here all night?”

“I’m just gonna go check something in the back…”

Patrick more than recognized this behavior in David. Avoiding subjects he didn’t want to discuss, whether out of guilt or in an attempt at self-deprecation or whatever it happened to be. This time, as usual, he’d let it go. But it was still sort of incredible to him how selfless David could be sometimes.

For the first time, Patrick was honestly grateful the day was slow and short of customers. He had missed a lot of opportunities to send out and reply to invoices, to schedule meetings with vendors for new products, and to explore opportunities to advertise elsewhere. As he was up to his nose in business, David found himself wandering upstairs to the loft for the first time since this whole project had started.

The absence of the boxes now made the space look big enough for what Patrick had envisioned. The piano fit easily along the only full-sized wall in the space, and though everything else was barren, it had been dusted and swept and generally cleaned. This, he figured out, would account for the trails of dirt he’d been cleaning up after for the better part of a full day now. It wasn’t until he was just about to walk back down the steps that he noticed something sitting atop the piano. Something he couldn’t start to make out until he walked much closer and discovered it was, in fact, a small pile of photos – presumably the ones that had been missing from the album.

Patrick, no more than three sitting on his mother’s lap, fingers smashing down on the keys of an upright piano identical to the one in front of David. Patrick, probably around ten, serious expression on his face as an older woman pointed to a music book from over his shoulder. Patrick on Christmas morning, sitting on the floor opening presents in front of the piano. It had been decorated in garlands and wreaths, and the tree had been set up beside it.

He could tell from the photos that the home wasn’t very big. Patrick had never said anything about growing up poor, but then, Patrick probably didn’t think he had been poor. And maybe he wasn’t. maybe in comparison to the lifestyle David had been raised in, everyone in a home like Patrick’s seemed poor. But what he could also tell from the photo was that the piano was the centerpiece of that living room. It was probably the centerpiece of the home. Music was probably part of their daily lives, pouring into Patrick’s heart and soul and making him into the man he’d become. Romantic and thoughtful and beautiful in every way a human could be so.

Even that rickety chair that had obviously been made by unskilled hands seemed important to Patrick. It had been in every photo right there with the piano itself, getting visibly more scuffed and abused as the years passed. But the grain matched the piano, the rich color also mirroring the instrument.

He slipped that particular photo – the one from Christmas – into his pocket before he went back downstairs to finish up their day. When they finally closed, David had no desire for dinner or drinks or sex or movies. He wanted a hot shower, a soft pair of pajamas, and to fall asleep in the arms of the man he loved. Patrick happily obliged.

\------------

“I don’t think I should stay home today, though,” Patrick said. “Mr. Glack’s coming to finish the tuning, and I wanna make sure it gets done right.”

“I’ll make sure. You’re overdoing it.”

“What? Just because I had a little issue with the car yesterday?”

David cocked his head to the side. “You were high on painkillers and kept saying you had a very important date to get to.”

“I’m going stir crazy!”

“It’s been three days!”

Patrick took in a deep breath. “So I’m just supposed to sit around here and do nothing?”

“Those were literally the doctor’s orders,” David explained. “So yes. Sit here, do nothing, read a book, have a drink, jerk off, I don’t care. But you’re not coming into work today, got it?”

Patrick’s expression softened. He watched the very stern look on his boyfriend’s face and, though he could never manage to take it too seriously, he knew he needed to listen.

“Fine,” he said. “But when Mitch gets there, you call me. I want to be on the phone the whole time.”

David nodded slightly. “You know, I know a thing or two about music, too. And he’s a professional, isn’t he? I mean, you’re paying him for this whole charade, right? So why don’t you just let him do his thing, and I’ll be there if he needs any kind of help at all, okay?”

“I should really be the one dealing with him.”

David walked over toward Patrick after a moment, suppressing a smile at the way Patrick’s determination amused him. He reached his hands out and pressed them atop Patrick’s shoulders. “I think someone needs to learn a lesson in control,” he said sweetly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “If there’s an emergency, I promise you’ll be my first call.”

Patrick reached for his crutches and hobbled over to the couch, grabbing his book on the way. “And you’ll tell me when it’s done?”

“I promise.”

David left and made it about halfway down the hall before he took the phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear.

“Alexis, listen,” he started. “You still have Mutt’s number, right?”

\-----------

Patrick nearly drove himself crazy waiting all day long to hear from David. As the end of the day drew closer, he ultimately concluded that either Mr. Glack did not show up (for whatever reason), or that David had ignored Patrick’s demand to call him and let him listen in on the tuning process. The former seemed unlikely, especially given that Mitch Glack had come across as nothing short of professional, and adding to that the fact that there was little evidence that there were any jobs to do which might have in any way caused a conflict in time. After all, how many clients in the greater Schitt’s Creek region needed their pianos tuned?

As soon as five o’clock rolled around, Patrick called David’s phone to assess the situation, pleased with himself for his adherence to the promise not to get too worked up taking control of everything for once. Of course, he didn’t think David incapable or uncaring, but he did think David might not have found this project to be an immediate priority. Patrick obviously did not see it this way, as making sure that the piano was cared for would, inevitably, translate into better business for the store, more efficient organization of stock, and, perhaps most importantly, Patrick’s ability to keep his promise of two weeks maximum.

“Hi,” David answered softly. “I’m just locking up now. Everything went very well, and I’m sure you’re just calling to tell me how well-rested you are after taking the doctor’s advice and keeping your foot elevated and iced.”

Patrick smiled. It was very like David to make a preemptive strike, which this very much was.

“For most of the day, yes,” he responded. “I did need to move around a few times, of course, but nothing you wouldn’t have given your blessing to.”

“I’ll bring over dinner.”

“Yes you will. And when you do, I assume you’ll be informing me of how everything went with Mr. Glack.”

There was a telling pause just then. Telling, because it told Patrick that David did not intend to do any such thing. Also telling because it told David that this might be a good opportunity to teach Patrick about patience. He reveled in this for a moment, since it was so rare that it was him teaching Patrick about anything at all, really. But as soon as he stepped into the car and headed toward the residential district, he softened his tone.

“He came over and finished the job,” David said. “He did need a little help, but luckily, Sheryl was in the store at the time, and she was able to give him a hand.”

Patrick remembered Sheryl as a former concert violinist who had been transplanted to Schitt’s Creek after her daughter because a single parent there. She was a kind woman, if a bit pretentious, and was a regular at the Apothecary. Patrick allowed his shoulders to relax a little, and he let out an audible sigh when David informed him of this.

“And you’re bringing home the client list for me to look over, right?”

“It’s taken care of,” David said, his voice clearly sounding from smiling lips. “We had a kind of a lull today, so I was able to get that done. And a couple of other things.”

“What other things?”

“You know what? Work is over, I’m at the pizza shop now, and I’m five minutes from home. I’m not sure I want to talk about business anymore today.”

“I understand,” Patrick nodded. “But you do know that we have to talk about it a little, right?”

“I know. But not right now.”

“No. Not right now.”

“I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay. I love you.”

“You, too.”

Patrick ended the call wondering how he ever failed to have the faith in David that was so clearly deserved. Of course he’d taken care of the piano. Of course he’d taken advantage of downtime to get work done. Of course he was thoughtfully bringing over dinner and tending to Patrick’s needs and calming him down without telling him to calm down. Of course he was. He was David Rose. He was the most incredible person Patrick would ever know.

\--------------

“Just put all your weight around my shoulders,” David said, holding a hobbling Patrick close to his side as they finished their trek down the stairs.

“I am, but I feel like I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not hurting me. I’m very strong.”

Patrick eyed him skeptically.

“Also I have zero pain tolerance. I would tell you if you were hurting me.”

As soon as they found the landing, David handed over the crutches, and Patrick hopped his way outside to the car. “Thank you for finally trusting me to come down to the store,” he said as David opened the passenger door for him. “I promise I’ll do my best to not drive you crazy.”

“I’m only doing this because you insist on getting your little project finished by tomorrow, and you’re going to drive me insane if you don’t stop talking about it.” David circled around and entered the driver’s side, beginning to the short drive to the store. “By the way, what do you even have left to do up there?”

“I need to get a stain on the wood,” he started. “I also need to find a chair or a bench or something, which should be pretty easy to do. There’s a thrift shop on the other side of town, apparently. They should have something. Did you know there’s a thrift shop over there?”

David smiled a little. “I do. I’ve actually been there before. Well, once. It wasn’t my best experience.”

“Yeah, well it’s not the easiest thing to get used to after you’ve lived a life of… well, whatever life you’d call whatever you came from. And anyway, old things have more character. Sometimes you have to sift through the trash to find the treasure. That’s why I kind of like thrift shops and yard sales and stuff. Doesn’t always pay off, but when it does, it makes it all worth it.”

“And you’re planning on getting out to those places to find a chair today? Like this?”

“I have some friends I can call. As long as you don’t mind watching the store, I mean.”

“And you’re going to sit up there and put a stain on that wood and breathe in those fumes and get high? Without me?”

“I’m planning to wear a mask, obviously.”

“And is that something else you’ll need to go out and buy?”

“It is. But again, after a just do a little research and make a list, I’ll call a friend to take me to get everything. I promise.”

David shook his head. “Research?”

“Well, kind of. I actually have some photos up there that I meant to bring with me last time I was here. They’ve got the pictures of the colors I need to find.”

David left the car and helped Patrick out before they walked up to open the store for the day. “What kind of photos?” David asked, knowing full well what the answer was, but needing to see Patrick admit it.

Patrick blushed a little. “Just… you know. Photos from home. Of the piano I had when I was growing up.”

David pulled the chair back around behind the cash for Patrick. “Well, whenever you want to go up there, I’ll help you.”

“I think I should go up there now,” he said. “I should really get to it, you know?”

“I agree.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, watching carefully as David attempted to hide a smile.

“I just think it’s cute how much you care.”

“It would be a lot cuter if I could stop giving myself an ulcer about it all.”

“Well come on, then,” David said, taking the crutches and supporting Patrick’s weight again as they ascended the stairs. “Show me everything.”

They hadn’t yet reached the top before Patrick found himself in awe of the transformation that had taken place. He stopped two steps short of the top, then let his eyes scan the room now filled with natural light that flooded in through the two cathedral windows at the far end of the loft. The piano stood shining and clean and freshly coated with a honey-colored hue. A red and gold Persian rug extended throughout the length of the space, and a black velvet settee framed the little space still left. Atop the piano sat several framed photos – all of Patrick’s childhood home, all featuring the piano as showcased in every milestone of his upbringing. And then, perhaps most impressive of all, there was the chair. The solid oak, slightly misshapen, very outdated chair.

Patrick was silent for a long time, his eyes wide with surprise even as David practically had to force him to finish his way up the steps. David took Patrick’s hands and helped him prop himself up on the crutches to finish looking everything over. He opened his mouth to speak a couple of times, but nothing came out. Not at first. Not for a long while.

“Did I get it all right?” David finally spoke.

“You did this? _You_?”

“I had some help.”

Patrick blinked. “But… how did you get the chair?” 

“It’s not the exact chair,” David admitted. “But I used the photos and had it made for you.”

Patrick said nothing once again. David panicked a little.

“How much did I screw up?”

Patrick let his crutches fall to the floor and rested the entirety of his weight against David, his lips falling against his, pushing his way, practically hopping, until they fell into the settee. Patrick kissed David deeply, fully, sweetly, then threw his arms around his boyfriend and held him there for several more minutes, all of which were filled with silent thank yous.

“So are you gonna try it out or what?” David giggled.

“We have to open the store,” Patrick told him. “We’re going to have customers in here soon.”

“Well maybe they’d like a little music to accompany their experience.”

At Patrick’s cue, David helped him to the piano, where he sat and stared at the keys for a moment as if reacquainting himself with old pals. His hands extended over them, waving a little like a magic wand, finally resting on the chosen keys as he took a cleansing breath. He rested his good foot near the pedals, pressed into the keys and let his fingers flow effortlessly, naturally along the off-white and black-chipped pieces. David recognized it after a moment as a unique rendition of Janet Jackson’s _Again_ , and he reveled in the look on Patrick’s face as he got lost in the music.

His eyes focused, then closed. He looked like he might have been sleeping if he were not still going on playing. And when David stood behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, Patrick concluded the piece and finally opened his eyes, grinning from ear to ear as he did so.

“You like it?” David whispered close to Patrick’s ear.

“Of course. But I still can’t believe you actually did all this.”

“Oh, I didn’t. Mutt made the chair and did the stain, Stevie put together the settee that I ordered, and my mom picked out the rug. I just told people where to put things.”

Patrick smiled. “I really wish we didn’t have to work today. I owe you a huge thanks for this.”

“There’s no rush on the thank you. We’ll just get back to life as usual, and we can do all the celebrating you want when we get home tonight.”

David moved to help Patrick back up, but Patrick stopped him. “I was thinking maybe I could just stay up here and play for a while,” he said. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Okay.” David kissed him once more, then headed down to help the first customer of the day.

Patrick didn’t come down until well after lunch, and for the first time, David was in no hurry to get home.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: nbc-trialanderror


End file.
